


by any other name

by Larrant



Category: 07-Ghost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Hawk centric (in a manner of speaking), F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrant/pseuds/Larrant
Summary: The toss of a coin, a word unspoken, a decision unmade. What would it take to change the world?(or, the one where Krowell doesn't go to Barsburg when he's fourteen, and everything changes)





	

 

 

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**the boy**

* * *

 

He is fourteen, he is a child and his body has always been weak. He spends his days within his room, reads books instead of playing- and when the letters arrive tied in red and gold- his father smoothes the hair from his forehead and instructs him to stay. Somebody needs to take care of the palace while they’re gone, the man says with a gentle smile and warm eyes.

When they leave, he stands at the gates and returns the waves he is sent, presses down the fear that rises above the film of nothingness. He spends three weeks with the servants in the palace, is left alone with a tall man with dark hair and bronze spectacles.

Three weeks pass. His family return, he goes to the front gates, greets them when they arrive, is hugged by his older brothers, does not resist when they ruffle his hair.

A week, and then a month.

A year, and then-

He is fifteen, and he is a prince. He has two brothers who love him dearly, he has those who might call him friends, he has a father

(he has a warmth inside of him he will keep for himself, nurtured and soft with the sound of old lullabies and the twist of a music box in time)

-he is loved.

 

 

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**the swordsman**

* * *

 

He is sixteen, and there is an empty ache somewhere, down deep in his chest, an ache that remains undefined as the days pass by, that is forgotten beneath the training and the laughter and the exams- but that never quite goes away, not ever, not quite.

He had come here on a whim, had felt a tug in his chest, something that drew, something that pulled.

But this is not where he is meant to be.

He graduates his exams in the 99th percentile. The day after, he drops his resignation letter on the principal’s desk, and slings his duffel bag over his back. There are two swords strapped to his side, and he goes to seek his fortunes elsewhere.

There is something he must do, someone he must find, even if the voice within him has faded to a soft hum that no longer twists and whispers in the night.

There is something, and he will go to the ends of the world to find it, for there is nothing else.

 

 

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**the joker**

* * *

 

They tell him not to, and he shakes off their words with small smiles and cheerful laughter. How can he not? He has the power to save them, he has the strength to give- hasn’t it always been that the ones able should help the weak. He can, and so he must- it is what he is here for.

So he gives, and he gives freely without taking. He gives, and he gives and he will never stop until they are all saved-

(and the darkness whispers, and the weight on his shoulders is heavy, heavier with every passing day, the shadow trailing on his footsteps long-)

The boy will run, and he will smile, and when he laughs he will shake off whatever shadow would grasp at him. There are more sweet shops to visit, more things to try, more things to share with the friend he holds closest in his thoughts- and one day, one of these days, he will finally make that person closest to him smile, and that day might hopefully be the happiest in his life.

He has more than enough to give- his heart is bursting with it, and the daylight is too bright not to embrace with all his being.

(one day, it will not be enough)

 

 

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**the monster**

* * *

 

 _It_ is a creature, small and slight with thin limbs and slitted eyes.

A monster, it hears, whispered into its ears and sinking into its bones, sinking deep into every tainted corner, deeper until it resonates with the darkness within. A monster, speaks the black rot hidden underneath the skin, _a monster._ One day, the realization will arise that there was never anything else.

There is blue in its lips, purple and green speckled across bony limbs and red on its hands- red that sinks, that drips through small fingers hot and sticky, like honey or treacle. Monster, it thinks, and, hesitantly, moves forward- when the unmoving figure on the ground does not stir, it takes one of the fallen hands, slowly holds it within its own.

Warm, it thinks, awed and heartbroken and soft, and cradles the pale fingers to its chest.

 

 

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**the priest**

* * *

 

There is a bishop who is said to be wandering the town, healing the sick and blessing the poor. The boy goes on a whim, leaves the restraints of his compound without a glance from the guards and walks past markets and vendors- and he meets the bishop- a man with red hair and soft eyes and a voice that captivates.

“There’s a free spot in our carriage,” the man smiles at the end of the day, and his spectacles glint, “I think you would do well with us.”

He wonders if it is true. Wonders if he can really do it.

(he’s always been trapped between two worlds- both and neither at once, shunned by family and strangers alike- is this the chance he will be given to walk into a new world?)

At the doorstep of the compound, a bag slung over his arm, he hesitates- just for a moment, something flashing in his mind’s eye. It’s a vision that will never be, a vision he does not truly understand- a vision of blue and gold and silver and amethyst and _belonging_ and- his grip tightens on the single bag at his side. He takes a step, away from his past, away from his family, and then he takes another, forward into the future.

He made a vow to himself, once, and he will fulfill it. He will be free.

 

 

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**the soldier**

* * *

  

There has always been something deep inside him, something deeper than his contentment to be where he is. He does not think of it much, too busy mixing dough and setting trays and giving an extra cookie to the kids who come in on errands.

When the war comes, something inside him has been waiting for it.

He will not wait to be drafted, to receive that white letter bound by a red seal on his doorstep- he goes, two years earlier than his town will be conscripted.

There is a bakery back home, a neighbour’s smile and a wave from the elderly grandmother whose window he passes on his way home- there are things he wants to protect.

(there is something missing, still, but he will forget this under the friendship of his comrades, under the banner he fights for)

 

 

 


End file.
